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قراءة كتاب Some Verses
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اللغة: English
الصفحة رقم: 4
class="p2 poetry">
Ah love, my love, upon this alien shore
I lean and watch the pale uneasy ships
Slip thro' the waving mist in strange eclipse,
Like spirits of some time and land of yore.
I did not think my heart could love thee more,
And yet, when lightlier than a swallow dips,
The wind lays ghostly kisses on my lips
I seem to know of love the eternal core.
Here is no throbbing of impassioned breath
To beat upon my cheek, no pulsing heart
Which might be silenced by the touch of Death,
No smile which other smile has softly kissed
Or doting gaze which Time must draw apart,
But spirit's spirit in the trailing mist.
ON THE MOUNTAIN'S SLOPE
High on the mountain's slope I pause and turn—
Over my head, by the rough crag-points high,
Seems rent and torn the tender hovering sky,
Till almost—thro'—I see a Heaven-spark burn;
Then downward to the sleeping world I yearn
Whose eyes so heavy droop they may not try
To catch the higher gleam—and live thereby—
Youth passes graveward—and they never learn.
Then faint with brooding o'er a careless earth
I turn to Nature and her broad warm breast,
Strive for a friendship with her sun-burnt mirth,
Teach my sad soul to catch her cadence deep,
Dream that in her absorbed my heart must rest;
But Nature smiles, and turns once more in sleep.
TO THE BELOVED
Beloved, when the tides of life run low
As sobbing echoes of a dead refrain,
And I may sit and watch the silent rain
And muse upon the fulness of my woe,
Then is my burden lighter, for I know
The roses of my heart shall bloom again
The fairer for this plenitude of pain,
And Summer shall forget the chilly snow.
But when life calls me to its revels gay
And I must face the world's wide-gazing eyes
Nor find sweet rest by night or peace by day,
E'en seems your love, where I would turn for aid,
As distant as the blue in sunny skies;
Then am I very lonely and afraid.
MY BROOK
Earth holds no sweeter secret anywhere
Than this my brook, that lisps along the green
Of mossy channels, where slim birch trees lean
Like tall pale ladies whose delicious hair
Lures and invites the kiss of wanton air.
The smooth soft grasses, delicate between
The rougher stalks, by waifs alone are seen,
Shy things that live in sweet seclusion there.
And is it still the same, and do these eyes
Of every silver ripple meet the trees
That bend above like guarding emerald skies?
I turn—who read the city's beggared book
And hear across the moan of many seas
The whisper and the laughter of my brook.
BENEATH THE MOON
Give me thy hand, Beloved! Here where still
The night wind hovers 'neath the pallid moon
Give me this fleeting moment; all too soon
The listless day will break upon the hill;
This last sweet night is mine. The tremulous thrill
Upon thy lips is all the precious boon
I begged of Heaven, the garish sun of noon
Is theirs—the rest—mine is this moment's will.
Our love could never be the love of day.
I have not claimed the welcome of thy lips;
No touch save fluttering hand, and for the pay
I gave my minstrelsy of sea and sky.
Once more thine eyes! Now sun-stained finger tips,
Send through the hush of dawn a glad good-bye.
THE RUBY
Ah—she was fair, this daughter of a queen!
Jewels upon her breast's soft fall of snow,
Jewels—in golden hair—and fierce aglow,
The gem of pride upon her brow serene!
Sleeping soft moonstone, emerald's baleful green,
A single sapphire, singing soft and low
Of wars for beauty's sake in years ago,
And flaming opal—wed with tourmaline.
Yet was there one great stone she might not wear,
And so her eyes were weary, and her mouth
Curved in the listless line of vain desire.
No diamond pure was hers the right to bear,
But—crimson poison petal of the South—
The ruby shone in deep unholy fire.
SPRING AND AUTUMN
The painted World has laid her jewels down,
Let fall the pinchbeck hair about her face
And croons a love song. In a far-off place
Where she was strutting in her silken gown
She met the Youth. His face was young and brown.
"Good day to you," she cried, the frosty lace
About her shoulders trembled. Ah—disgrace!
He turned, and left her weeping in the town.
She smiles not any more, her heart disdains
The wind's rough courting, loud and indiscreet.
Her tears dissolve the earth in ceaseless rains
And though her searching steps be light and fleet
Through frowning city or soft country lanes,
Now never more may Spring and Autumn meet.
THE LOST MOMENT
This moment I so careless threw away,